


Demonstration of Gravity

by elyssblair



Category: Real Genius (1985)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyssblair/pseuds/elyssblair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good friends and a good prank to look forward to.  What more could he ask for from a Thursday?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eleanor_lavish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/gifts).



The sound of someone carefully opening his dorm room door pulled Mitch from much needed sleep. Even with a haze of dreaminess still clinging to his brain, he wasn’t too worried about the intruder. The people who could get past the extra security on his door were all people he trusted with his life.

Not that they wouldn’t prank him, publically embarrass him or push him out of his comfort zone. Ultimately, though, they always had his best interests at heart.

Whoever it was, he, or she, made an effort to cross the mess of his dorm room floor with minimal noise or disturbance. Mitch just snuggled deeper under his blanket, hoping the trespasser would take pity on him and let him sleep.

He really should have known better, Mitch thought, as his bed shuttered under the weight of someone dropping down next to him.

He found it both odd and comforting that he knew exactly who the invader was by the degree of bounce.

“Chris, go away. It’s Thursday. You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

Despite his own best efforts at slacking, Chris had managed to get both his Bachelor’s and Master’s in the four years he’d attended Pacific Tech when he’d graduated two months earlier. Darlington, however, liked all their resident geniuses to have PhD after their names. Now, Chris split his time between the lab and getting his doctorate at his alma mater.

“It _is_ tomorrow.”

The bright stage whisper close to his ear made Mitch jump, then the blankets around his head rustled and cooler air invaded his cozy little cocoon.

“See.”

Mitch slitted his eyes open and blearily focused on the digital blue glow that read 12:02 a.m. He groaned, closed his eyes and attempted to crawl deeper under the blankets.

“You know what I mean. Some of us need sleep. We can’t all run on caffeine and sugar. Go away.”

Chris still spent nearly as much time on campus as he had before he graduated, but he usually only crashed in Mitch’s dorm room on the weekends. The room was still technically a double, but somehow hadn’t gotten assigned a second occupant. Mitch was fairly sure whatever ‘glitch’ had caused the oversight, it would continue into the fall semester.

The blue glow beyond his tightly closed eyelids disappeared. Then the blanket started to tug away from his body. Running on instinct, he wrapped both fists in the blanket and yanked back.

Above him, Chris huffed a laugh and let go.

“C’mon, sleeping beauty. We have to people see. Things to do. Drywall to hang.”

He would not ask. He would not _ask_. He would _not_ —

“Drywall?”

Mitch tucked the blankets under his chin and tried to get his brain to kick in as he stared at Chris in confusion.

Of course, the only thing his sleep-addled brain noticed was that Chris’s _I failed the Turing test_ t-shirt was a little too tight. And that his shoulders were still broad and abs still chiseled under the stretched cotton.

“Drywall. Otherwise known as sheet rock or plaster board. Gypsum plaster pressed between two thick sheets of paper. Used to—”

“I know what drywall is!”

Chris rolled his eyes with a sad-eyed hound dog expression. “Then why did you ask? We’re wasting moonlight here.”

He bounced on the bed again to emphasize his point and Mitch had to tense every muscle not to roll over into Chris’s lap.

With a deep breath, he asked with as much patience as he could muster, “Why are we going to be hanging drywall at midnight?”

“Because we’d get caught if we did it during the day.”

“Chris.”

The smirk shifted into a satisfied smile as Chris bounced a little more.

“Kent left on a pilgrimage to Mount Shasta at 6:23 this evening. He won’t be back until Sunday afternoon. I want to make sure there’s enough time for the paint to dry, so we need to start tonight.”

“Ahh.”

It didn’t really answer any of Mitch’s questions but it told him all he needed to know. Most importantly, whatever it was Chris had planned, Mitch was not getting out of it.

After the ‘popcorn incident’ and Hathaway’s quick resignation and disappearing act, Kent had switch his area of focus to Philosophy of Science. He’d become obsessed with proving the existence of god scientifically. Or maybe it was disproving. Mitch hadn’t cared enough to listen.

Kent’s newfound religious interest, though, had done nothing to mitigate the antagonism he felt toward Chris, Mitch and their friends. He’d ratted out the Week Long Sweet 16/Graduation Extravaganza Chris had planned in honor of Mitch’s 16th birthday and his own graduation, which fell within a few days of each other. The epic seven-day party had been ruined at day three when campus security broke things up before they’d even gotten a quarter of the agar and cherry flavoring into the campus fountain.

Chris had not forgiven Kent for it and had been waiting weeks for the perfect opportunity to get even.

Apparently, that time was now.

“Alright. Move.” Mitch said, already pushing his way past Chris and out of bed. “If we’re going to do this, I need to get dressed.”

“Good idea.” Chris voice held a little less humor and a lot less breath as his eyes roamed over Mitch from shoulders to feet and up again, reminding him he’d gone to bed wearing only boxers.

When Mitch looked at himself in the mirror, he just saw too skinny, too pale, too average. But when Chris looked at him like that… well, he didn’t know what Chris saw, but Mitch sure liked the way it made him feel.

Not that either of them would acknowledge Chris had looked or Mitch had noticed.

“Good idea,” Chris repeated, this time with a mocking twist. “I’m pretty sure OSHA standards frown on naked construction work.”

Mitch snorted and kicked through the laundry, figuring he didn’t want to waste clean clothes on whatever they were doing.

“Stealth or hard labor?” he asked trying to figure out if he needed all black or something rugged. Or, par for the course with Chris, both.

“Labor. Kent’s room is in the basement and the floor has been evacuated for the weekend so we don’t need to worry about stealth.”

Mitch started to ask how he’d managed that, then decided plausible deniability was the better way to go.

He scrambled into one of the new pairs of jeans he’d acquired and a black t-shirt that probably belonged to Chris.

Before he even finished tying his sneakers, Chris tugged him out the door. “C’mon, c’mon my truck’s parked in the tow-away zone.”

Mitch dragged his feet just because he could. Then Chris put a large, warm hand in the middle of his back and marched him along the hall, down the side stairs and outside without ever breaking contact.

Chris’s shiny new truck was parked directly under the NO PARKING sign. The late-model, extended cab, fully loaded vehicle seemed to be the only extravagant luxury Chris had spent his generous new salary on. He’d rented a studio apartment closer to Darlington, but it was utilitarian and fairly empty except for necessities and a second-hand TV.

“Jordan should be down in a minute. The others will meet us at Kent’s.” Chris explained as he shoved Mitch up and into the cab.

“Others?” Mitch asked.

“Ick and the Red Shirts.”

The Red Shirts were two sophomores staying in their dorm for the summer session. Eager and ready for pranks and parties in equal measure, they idolized Chris and had quickly been pulled into the tidal wave of his personality. They’d earned the nickname when they’d sacrificed themselves to campus security during the infamous July 4th Firework and Water Balloon Experience.

The truck door banged open and Jordan hopped up, muttering, “I’m late. I’m late. I know I’m late.”

Reminding Mitch of Alice’s white rabbit. He had to bite hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, though she was babbling at Chris and hadn’t even noticed him yet.

“I’m so sorry. I was double checking blue prints and our calculations and then I had an idea for my extracurricular project….”

Chris started, the truck revving the engine and cutting her off mid-sentence.

She huffed, then noticed Mitch in the passenger’s seat. “Oh, good, you’re coming too. I was worried you might have to miss it because you have a test tomorrow. We could quiz you as we work if it would help…”

Mitch smiled and nodded and let the steady stream of sound roll over him. The cadence of her babble had become soothing to him once he’d learned not to focus on every single word. It was sort of meditative.

Back before he’d come to Pacific Tech, when the idea of dating was completely theoretical to him, he’d assumed hanging out with an ex-girlfriend would be awkward and uncomfortable.

But their break up had been almost a non-event. They’d been officially a couple for just a few weeks before they realized they were ‘kinetically incompatible.’ Which meant, after the mutual break-up, Mitch had crashed and slept for two solid days. Jordan had built a scale model Eiffel Tower on the roof.

They’d settled back into being friends with hardly a blip.

Jordan had, however, decided she really, really liked sex and had made it her mission to find someone on campus who could keep up with her.

“So, anyway, I think we have enough supplies, but we may need to double check the paint…”

Next to him, Chris nodded along to Jordan’s rhythm as he drove and Mitch settle back in contentment. Good friends and a good prank to look forward to. What more could he ask for from a Thursday?

*

Two hours later, Mitch was covered in sawdust and gypsum particles. His eyes were gritty, his arms hurt and his back ached.

A large, warm hand landed on his shoulder and the muscles began relaxing beneath the familiar touch before he even consciously registered Chris’s presence.

“Take a break. Jordan and Red Shirt Number One have decided we need a wall sconce to complete the illusion.” The light fixtures were spaced in even intervals along the wall. Unlike the rooms in the century old building, which were spaced haphazardly down the hallway.

“They’re going to work on the wiring while Ick and Red Shirt Number Two try to find a sconce to cannibalize. Ick’s pretty sure there’s some in the hall on the fifth floor. It’s used for storage now, so nobody will miss one.”

“Oh, good.”

Mitch vaguely knew he should be concerned about two chem students playing with the wiring to remove the sconce, but he couldn’t quite muster the energy. He was just glad nobody had expected him to climb six flights of stairs.

He leaned back against the wall. It felt so good to let it take some of his weight, he slid down and let the floor help too.

Chris tsked loudly, twisting his head back and forth in an exaggerated shake before walking away.

Mitch let his eyes slip closed for a few minutes respite. He’d done more manual labor tonight than he’d probably done in the whole rest of his sixteen years. He deserved a moment of complete stillness.

Jordan and RS#1, another engineering student, had been imperiously directing Ick, Mitch and RS#2 while pouring over plans, sketches and various measurements with careful attention.

So far, they’d dismantled the door and door frame, cut various 2x4s and drywall, muscled things in and out of place and used more power tools than was strictly necessary.

Chris had been acting as look out and transporting supplies to and from the truck. He’d pause, every now and then, to give them motivational speeches which made absolutely no sense but seemed to work on all of them, anyway.

“Hey.”

Mitch looked up to find a bottle of water and a power bar in front of him. He took both gratefully from Chris who squatted down to be at eye level.

There was a slight frown and the usual arrogant, laid-back mask was missing as Chris scoured him with a concern expression.

“You skipped dinner again, didn’t you?”

Mitch bit the inside of his lip and considered lying, but knew he wouldn’t get away with it. Chris always knew when he fibbed. There’d be a flash of hurt in those green eyes followed by the bland, blank expression that made Mitch’s stomach twist with regret when he caused it. He much preferred being the one to see Chris’s real emotions, fleeting though the glimpses usually were.

So he told the truth.

“Yeah. I was in the lab and lost track of time. Then I had to finish a paper for Dr. Isle. By the time I was done, I just crashed.”

He ripped into the power bar and tried not to notice Chris looking around at the evidence of the hard work they’d done or the way both his frown and concern deepened.

Chris looked away, toward the empty stairs and said, “Yeah, well, we’re almost done here.”

And that was an apology, Chris-style. Anyone else would have missed the flash of guilt and momentary regret, immediately replaced with his usual smile.

Mitch patted Chris’s arm in unspoken acknowledgement. Then he grinned when he thought about what they were doing and said, “I can’t wait to watch Kent try and find his room on Sunday. It’s going to be better than the car.”

Chris’s answering grin was genuine when he let himself look at Mitch again. Mitch left his hand on his roommate’s arm and they stayed that way in companionable silence. Then Ick and RS#2 clomped down the stairs holding aloft a light fixture like conquering heroes carrying their spoils. Jordan’s excitement and mile-a-minute monologue splashed over them and ended the moment completely.

Chris’s expression turned regretful before lifting into a smirk as he stood to meet her.

Mitch pushed himself back up the wall as he half listened.

“…so we’ll tape and mud tonight. The Red Shirts volunteered to come back to finish up and paint. Then I can install the sconce and cameras first thing Sunday.”

Chris chomped on an imaginary cigar as he said, “I love it when a plan comes together.”

Jordan giggled, Ick snorted and Mitch just rolled his eyes as they all got back to work.

*

Friday, Mitch managed to drag himself through classes, barely. The quick shower had gotten his eyelids open and his body moving. Dragging and slow, but moving.

The thermos of coffee and high-protein muffin Chris had pressed into his hand with the rare, soft smile helped the most, though. The fact that Mitch was the only one who ever got to see that smile from Chris helped even more.

After his last class, he went straight back to his room and crashed. When he opened his eyes again, the room was dark and he had no idea how long he slept. He did know what woke him, though. The sounds of the party coming from the quad outside the dorm were just getting started but already the music was vibrating the walls around him.

His first thought was Chris, a fondness and exasperation saturating it. He was warm and comfortable and still a little drowsy and considered laying there, putting in earplugs and going back to sleep.

But Chris would just come looking for him with his familiar, over-dramatic pout. One important lesson he’d learned was the more outrageous Chris acted, the deeper the emotion he was trying to hide. Mitch tried never to trip those insecurity switches buried in Chris.

Despite knowing exactly what his former roommate was capable of, the transformation of the courtyard took even Mitch by surprise. It had been turned into a city-scape reminiscent of Atlantis. The faux-walls and various platforms and tables managed to look both post-modern and ancient. The band played a mixed of instruments from lutes to an electronic keyboard and the dance floor was already more than half-filled.

He didn’t see Chris right away in the rapidly filling, impromptu arena. Disappointed, he wandered over to one of the refreshment tables. Jordan stood next to it with a glass in hand staring at one of the faux statues scattered around the edge of the party.

Among the usual offerings, a giant punch bowl filled with dark red, almost black, liquid caught his attention. A faint haze of steam or smoke hovered on its surface.

He nudged Jordan and asked, “What’s that?”

Jordan startled at his question and turned toward him. Her eyes, however, kept darting back toward the statue.

“Oh, hi, Mitch. Didn’t know you were here yet. Chris said he was going to let you sleep until the party really got started, because you needed it after last night. This,” she waved her cup of steaming punch, “This is something Ick made. He won’t say what’s in it, but swears there’s no alcohol or illegal substances. It tastes like cherry soda, the steam tickles my nose and it makes me feel floaty and tingly. Do you think he’d make out with me?”

Even after nearly a year, Mitch still had difficulty untangling her twisted sentences and non-linear thoughts. Frowning, he took a guess.

“Who, Ick?”

She gave him the hard stare and pouty glower that translated into a ‘don’t be ridiculous’ look. With a sharp jerk, she tilted her head in the direction of the statue.

“No. Him.”

It took a minute for Mitch to notice a lanky guy with dark hair and glasses hovering in the shadow of the statue. Even standing still, the guy gave an impression he was ready to vibrate out of his skin. The words ‘kinetically compatible’ flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help chuckling when he said, “Go for it.”

She handed him her nearly full glass and darted across the lawn while his words still hung in the air. With a shrug he lifted the glass to his lips and tested. Fizzy cherry soda. With a shrug and a feeling it was a good night to be a little reckless, he finished the glass in two swallows then filled it up again.

Halfway through his second cup, Mitch started experiencing the promised tingly floating feeling. The sound of Chris’s voice drew his attention to the band’s platform. His roommate stood, announcing the ‘Dance like it’s 9999 BCE’ contest wearing his favorite Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts and dolphin slippers. In deference to the theme, no doubt. His hair was mussed, his eyes were bright and his smile was brilliant. Chris never looked happier than when he’d used his genius and his creativity to bring pleasure to the multitude.

Mitch’s heart tightened with emotion and he felt his own personal sense of pleasure at seeing his friend truly relaxed and happy. Too often Chris’s smile hid longings and unhappiness he never expressed.

Chris caught sight of Mitch as the music started back up in full force and waved with wide sweeping gestures that insisted Mitch join him.

Mitch grinned, waved back, finished his drink and wove his way unsteadily through the crowd. He couldn’t wait to find out what other mischief Chris had planned for the evening.

Chris met him halfway and wrapped an arm around Mitch’s shoulders. He wasn’t much steadier and he had his own cup full of Ick’s secret recipe.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up until the fireworks.”

“Fireworks?” Mitch raised an eyebrow. He was pretty sure the Dean had told them no more incendiaries after the Fourth of July incident.

Chris tightened the arm around Mitch’s shoulders until a thumb and forefinger held close was in front of his eyes. “Just a little show.”

Then he pulled away and Mitch knew it was his imagination that he felt cold on the warm summer California evening.

Chris stumbled a little as he stepped back, then put his hands on his hips and surveyed the party.

“One of my better efforts, don’t you think?”

The laughter and the dancing and joy surrounding them made Mitch nod in agreement. But he couldn’t let it all go to his friend’s head. Hiding the grin he was feeling, he put on his best serious face and rubbed his chin with one hand.

“A little ostentatious, though, don’t you think?”

That fast smile curved into a definite pout as Chris looked down at him.

“Ostentatious? Ostentatious?” The outrage was as feigned as Mitch’s criticism, but it was fun to wind Chris up and watch him go. Most of the time.

“Was Darth Vader being ostentatious when he invited Luke to the dark side? Was Captain Kirk being ostentatious when he seduced every green alien priestess they encountered?”

He had no idea what either of those had to do with an Atlantis-themed college party but just shook his head, not trusting himself to hold back his amusement.

“No.” Chris said with so much righteous indignation it practically vibrated in the air. “They were brilliant people doing what they do best. Sharing their genius.”

Mitch let the laughter burst out of him at the serious pout and furrowed brow, off-set by the twinkling in his friend’s eyes. After a moment, Chris laughed along with him and the simple pleasure of the moment made him feel free and easy. He wondered briefly what exactly was in Ick’s punch. Whatever it was, he liked it.

*

Mitch woke slowly Saturday morning, the sun already streaming bright and strong, through his windows.

The night’s events were a little hazy but there was no hangover. He’d have to remember to congratulate Ick on another success.

However, he’d fallen asleep on the _floor_ of his dorm room. And, apparently, he was the little spoon. The big spoon behind him was definitely male. He also had Mitch wrapped up tighter than cling wrap and was cuddled up as close as he could physically get.

Mitch was fairly certain he knew who his sleeping partner was even before he heard the man snort. The stream of warm air blown across Mitch’s neck left a tingling path of sensation in its wake and there was no doubt in his mind. A barely audible sleepy mumble followed, though the only word he could make out was ‘pickles.’

Mitch let a smile curve his mouth and relaxed back into the embrace, allowing himself to enjoy it while he could. He remembered enough of the evening to know nothing more than hugging and dancing and snuggling had happened. Though how, exactly, they’d ended up asleep on the floor was a complete mystery.

In a little while, Chris would wake up. He’d do a song and dance about nonsense, then tap his way out of the room to head for the showers. They’d get breakfast and neither of them would wonder out loud how they ended up on the floor together. Nor mention how good it felt to wake up wrapped around each other.

Even though the attraction and emotions zipping between them were so obvious they could probably be seen from space, no one ever commented on it. Least of all Chris or Mitch.

It was still kind of new for Mitch, the realization he’d had at the beginning of the summer. The idea that he might have _romantic_ feelings for his former roommate. Sometimes he wondered how much of a genius he could really be, considering how long it took him to figure it all out.

It wasn’t until he’d told Chris about his breakup with Jordan that he’d gotten the first inkling.

There’d been a flash of relief in his friends eyes, followed quickly by the blanket offer to: a) help Mitch get revenge, b) help him find the next fish in the sea and/or c) help him get drunk and bitch about the perfidy of women.

Of course, Mitch had spent the rest of the night explaining it was a mutual, amicable breakup and none of those options were necessary. It wasn’t until the next day that he’d gotten around to wondering why Chris would be relieved that he was single again.

When he tried to figure it out, the one thing that struck him hard was how happy he felt that Chris wasn’t involved with anyone, either.

The more he thought about it, the small memories began to take on larger meaning.

Chris going out of his way to get Mitch to relax when he was wound so tight he’d been ready to snap in two. Talking him into staying when he wanted nothing more than to go home to his parents. In return, Mitch now had no doubt, that Chris ultimately had stayed at Pacific Tech for _him_. Combined with the abundant casual touching, the looks and smiles that only Mitch got from him and the caretaking, like making sure he slept and ate properly, there was only one conclusion he could come up with.

Chris was in love with him.

Once the shock of that wore off, more realizations piled on.

He _liked_ Jordan. He’d _liked_ the sex.

But part of the reason he’d been happy to get out of things with her, was because he _missed_ Chris.

He never felt as alive with Jordan as he did when he was with Chris. And only his former roommate made him feel so much more like himself. Like it was okay to breathe in his own skin.

That Mitch was physically attracted to Chris, as well, should really have come as more of a surprise than it had. If he hadn’t been socially stunted, he’d have known months ago that not only was Chris in love with him:

He was in love with Chris.

So, in all his awkward glory, he’d tried in repeated, obvious ways to throw himself at Chris. In turn, Chris had carefully and skillfully sidestepped each attempt, at the same time, doing his best not to damage Mitch’s ego. Chris started frequently mentioning Mitch’s age or his birthday until he’d finally gotten it.

Chris Knight liked to break rules, and the occasional law, if they got in his way. But he had his own, strict, personal moral code that he could not be shaken from.

Apparently, Mitch’s age was one of his lines in the sand.

He’d taken the hint and backed off. Chris had come to mean everything to Mitch, even before he’d understood just how far ‘everything’ would go.

He could wait. If Chris had the patience to wait it out, he could, too. After all, it was only two years until he turned 18.

Behind him, Chris’s breathing change and Mitch knew he’d wake up soon. Mitch let himself drift for the few more minutes of snuggling he had.

*

“Hurry up! He’s heading for the stairs!”

Mitch decided to forgo the last 10 seconds of popping and stopped the microwave at Jordan’s excited shout. He grabbed the popcorn and juggled the hot bag from one hand to the other and back as he hurried into the common room.

Jordan, Ick, Chris and the Red Shirts had claimed all the seats facing the TV so he settled on the floor in front of Chris, right between his feet. Just because he was no longer pushing, didn’t mean he couldn’t take advantage when the opportunity presented itself. And Chris didn’t seem to mind.

Right on cue, one hand landed on his shoulder with a light squeeze, while the other reached around him and grabbed a handful of white fluffy kernels. Mitch let his head fall back, just enough to brush the taut stomach muscles. He heard the quick inhale, felt the abs tense and smiled to himself.

Then he lifted his head, focused his attention on the TV and let everything return to normal. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend a quiet Sunday afternoon.

Jordan fiddled with the remote camera controls and on-screen the angle shifted to show Kent striding down the hall, past room _12_.

 _13._

 _14._

He paused at an empty expanse of wall, decorated with a single wall sconce. He frowned, wrinkling his nose and his forehead in a way that looked almost painful. Then he shrugged and continued on down the hall.

His steps slowed as he passed room _16_ , the wrinkle coming back at _17_ and he stopped at _18_. He looked left, then right. Then at the empty wall behind him. Finally, he turned and headed with lumbering footsteps back up the hall.

Their laughter brought half the dorm to watch and soon bets were flying on how long it would take Kent to figure it out.

Eventually, Chris won the pool and they settled in to waste the rest of the afternoon with a Star Wars marathon.

Somewhere along the way, Chris’s hand had shifted from Mitch’s shoulder to the back of his neck and stayed there, warm and comfortable. A silent reminder and a promise. Mitch relaxed and let a soft smile form.

Two years really wasn’t all that long to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 _“Good Morning. It is my pleasure to welcome all of you to the Pacific Technical Institute’s 114 th commencement ceremony…”_

Mitch wriggled in his chair and pulled the sticky fabric away from his neck, hoping to get a hint of non-existent breeze. Whoever decided it was a good idea to wear black polyester gowns at an outdoor, California summer commencement ceremony, they should be shot.

He shifted again in an attempt to get comfortable. A futile attempt. And not just because of the heat or the droning of the dean. Looking around at his peers, he felt like a freak for the first time in a long time.

Sure a couple of million other 18 year olds were sitting in the same uncomfortable folding chairs, listening to same boring speeches waiting to get their _high school_ diploma.

Not Mitch. After three years at Pacific Tech, he sat impatiently waiting to walk across the stage and accept his joint BS/MS degree. Then he could get on with the party. And the rest of his life.

With that thought resonating, he craned his head trying to catch a glimpse of Chris in the crowd. The sea of family and friends surrounding the soon-to-be graduates, however, made it all but impossible to spot a single face among the assembly.

A pang twisted through him, an echo of pain he’d mostly dealt with and put away three years ago. His parents weren’t in that crowd. The biggest event of his life, so far, and they hadn’t wanted to spend the money or take the time off to come. They’d sent him a card and called the night before to wish him well. The conversation hadn’t lasted more than five minutes and the card had been thin and generic.

It hurt that they hadn’t thought him worth the effort, but it also had not been a surprise. He’d only been home twice since starting at Pacific Tech and both times had been awkward and uncomfortable for all of them. The visits had highlighted the fact that, whatever common ground they’d once been able to find, it had completely eroded.

While the severing of blood ties had left him a little hollow inside, he’d managed to cobble together an impromptu family around him at Pacific Tech. Ick and Jordan had finished undergrad the year before and both had hung around to work on their next degrees. Lazlo and Sherry wrote or called at least once a week. The Red Shirts, now more commonly referred to as One and Two, sat somewhere in the field of folding chairs, waiting for their own turn to walk across the stage.

And Chris. The man who’d become his rock, the axis around which his world moved. The man he’d been silently planning a future with as their lives became more and more entangled the past two years. So much so that Mitch had a hard time figuring out where he ended and Chris began.

Since the fall semester, the tension, the sense of inevitable, impending _something_ had been growing, gaining weight, pulling them closer and closer on a shared trajectory.

Then, abruptly, Chris had slowed down and shifted out of Mitch’s orbit. He’d started coming around less and less until he hardly ever spent a night, much less a whole weekend on campus. He’d pulled away from Mitch emotionally as well with evasive answers rather than the sardonic honesty they’d always shared.

Chris claimed his distraction was caused by taking over his boss’s responsibility while she’d been on maternity leave and Mitch had given him the benefit of the doubt. He’d wanted to believe it was simply the extra work and extra hours. But Mariah had been back for three weeks and he’d seen Chris precisely twice. For less than a total of four hours.

He couldn’t help worrying maybe Chris had changed his mind about their unspoken agreement. Or maybe Mitch had misunderstood all along and Chris was backing off to let him down easy.

Except…

Except Chris hadn’t stopped trying to take care of him, albeit from a distance.

Take-out appearing, paid for, at his door when he was neck deep in prepping for exams. An email reminding him to get to bed at a decent hour when he was burning the candle at both ends. The random, short and, more often than not, silent phone calls to make sure he was eating, resting, not taking life too seriously.

This morning was a perfect example. Chris had sent One and Two to his door with a breakfast sandwich and coffee, because Mitch always forgot to eat on important days.

Chris still cared. The question was, did he still care in the way Mitch wanted him to? The way he needed him to.

Around him, students began to get to their feet and adjust caps and gowns. He followed on autopilot now, ready for the purgatory of the ceremony to be over. For the rest of his life to start.

Even if he had the feeling that it wasn’t going to go quite the way he’d been planning for the past two years.

*

Once free of the crowded front lawn and boring speakers, Mitch tucked the wadded up gown and cap under one arm, gripped his prize degree in his other hand and made his way to the parking lot where he was suppose to meet Jordan.

As the youngest student to earn his Master’s degree at Pacific Tech, the Dean had asked Mitch to say a few words at the Graduate Luncheon. He was both flattered and terrified by the request.

He’d originally asked Chris to go with him, since he had no family to invite. But, as usual lately, Chris had a ‘thing’ right after commencement. Mitch had done his best to swallow the hurt and smile in understanding. Then he’d asked Jordan to come with him, instead.

At the edge of the asphalt, he searched her out and found her standing with a small group a couple of rows over, next to a huge RV. She’d let her hair grow past her shoulders and it now sported a large chunk of magenta that was hard to miss.

His gaze slid past her to the blond at her side. Chris laughed at something she said and Mitch couldn’t tear his eyes away. His breath caught in his chest and his heart squeezed when he tried to remember the last time he’d seen Chris looked so loose and easy **.**

Then Chris turned his head and caught sight of Mitch. His smilegot even wider. The trapped air finally escaped Mitch all at once as hope and warmth and need washed through him in wave after wave.

It took a second to get his heart and breath back under control and realize Chris was pointing at something with both hands. With a great deal of emotional effort, Mitch pried his gaze away from the beloved smile and realized he knew the couple standing next to Chris. Lazlo had cut his hair but Sherry looked as beautiful as ever.

With a whoop, he crossed the pavement so fast, he didn’t actually remember his progress. Only when he was engulfed in a huge group hug did he realize Ick, One and Two were there as well.

Chris stood next to him as they caught up with the Wyoming couple. Lazlo had been right about Mitch’s growth spurt, though it had taken him more like eighteen months. Still, after all this time, he always found it a little surprising that he and Chris stood pretty much shoulder to shoulder now.

When the hugging and the crying and the laughter were done, Jordan reminded everyone they still had a banquet to get to.

“Right,” Chris said taking the forgotten bundle of cloth and paper from Mitch’s hands and stuffed it in the RV behind them. “With the traffic, it’ll be quicker to walk than to drive. We’ll just come back and get the RV later.”

The world slowed down around them for a minute as Mitch tried to process.

“We?” His voice was a rasp, filled with hope and fear, joy and an underlying edge of pain he couldn’t quite suppress. “You’re coming too? I thought… You said… You were busy. Which is okay. I understand if you can’t…”

Chris stopped, the bright smile slipping into a frown as he searched Mitch’s face. Mitch knew that everything he was feeling, had been feeling for weeks, was right there but he couldn’t hide it. He’d always been an open book to his former roommate and he wouldn’t change that now, even if he could.

“Mitch,” Chris whispered, raising a trembling hand to cup Mitch’s jaw. “It was a surprise… I thought… I was trying…”

“Later,” Mitch said, throwing his arms around Chris and hugging tight.

All the tension he’d been carrying for the past months simply vanish. Whatever he’d thought was up with Chris, he’d been wrong. When Chris wrapped strong arms around his waist and held him just as tight, his world shifted back into its proper orbit.

“Later,” he repeated, eyes closed so he could concentrate on the feel of holding Chris and being held by him. For now, it was enough. “We can talk about it all later.”

The loud clearing of a throat forced him to open his eyes. Their little group had moved several yards away to give them the illusion of privacy. But Ick looked significantly at his watch and Mitch knew he was right. They would be cutting it close as it was. If they lingered much longer, they’d definitely be late.

With reluctance, he separated himself from Chris and said, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go get lunch!”

He started to walk over to join the others but Chris snagged his hand and tugged him back a little. When Mitch looked over his shoulder, Chris was wearing that soft smile. The real one he reserved just for Mitch.

“Later,” Chris whispered. His eyes full of promise and heat that made Mitch shiver as they walked toward the banquet with their fingers tangled together.

*

Mitch stood outside Sherry and Lazlo’s RV and watched the sun set over the campsite. Music played, the fire burned high, dinner had been eaten, his presents had been opened and the demolished remains of his birthday cake sat in its prominent place on one of the picnic tables.

For them, it was a rather low-key celebration. The night was still young, though, and more people kept turning up at their reserved section of the campground as they ditched their family for what was sure to be a spectacular graduation party weekend.

Ick wandered over with a punch bowl filled to the brim with familiar, dark red, steaming liquid. Mitch smiled and licked his lips at the memories it stirred. His hand reached for a cup but a soft sound behind him made him hesitate.

He glanced back to find Chris looking pensive. A thoughtful Chris at a party was a terrifying sight.

“What?”

Chris raised an eyebrow and flashed that perfect smile.

“What? What?”  

“Don’t play innocent with me, you made a sound.”

“A sound?”

“Yes, a sound.”

“What kind of sound did I allegedly make? Because I’ve been practicing my bird calls. I’ve nearly got the call of the Northern Pygmy Owl down pat. Listen.”

He let loose a strange trill sound, followed by a couple of evenly spaced hoots. “What do you think?”

“Chris…”

“Mitch…” He growled back playfully and his hands landed on Mitch’s hips. For a second the heat and the unexpectedly casual touch nearly short-circuited his brain. No doubt what Chris was counting on.

“Why don’t you want me to drink Ick’s punch?”

“I don’t care what you drink.” His lips tightened a fraction and his gaze shifted somewhere to the trees behind Mitch’s head. “It’s your graduation party. Not to mention your birthday. You should be having fun.”

Something in his inflection on the word birthday, though, tripped something in Mitch’s head. Ick’s punch made memories hazy. And his 18th birthday had been something they’d both been looking forward to for a long time. Not the kind of day he’d want to have hazy memories of.

With deliberate care, he hooked his thumbs in Chris’s jeans and tugged him closer.

“You know, I just realized. It’s later.”

“Mitch…”

“Chris.” He tried for the same playful, teasing growl, but Chris continued to look a little wary.

“Graduation is a rite of passage. A boy never gets to party quite like he does on the night…”

Mitch tuned out the speech and, instead watched the wide mobile mouth move as he talked. When Chris paused to take a breath, he put two fingers on those inviting lips.

He slid a little closer, until they brushed against each other from chest to knees and whispered, “I can think of another rite of passage I’d like to experience tonight.”

Chris whimpered, his eyes slid shut and his hands tightened almost painfully on Mitch. He couldn’t help the small laugh of triumph. It wasn’t often he left his former roommate speechless.

Chris left his eyes closed and their bodies pressed tight together when he finally found his voice. “I wanted you to have tonight to party and celebrate. I have a surprise for you, but I was going to wait until tomorrow…”

“Another surprise?” Mitch felt his lips curve in pleasure. He should have realized Chris would have plans. He might have, if he hadn’t been so sure Chris’s only plan was to extricate himself from Mitch’s life.

“Another?” The blond leaned back. “You mean this afternoon. Showing up for lunch. That wasn’t the surprise, exactly. I just wasn’t sure I’d be done getting the surprise ready before commencement started and I wasn’t missing that. And I wasn’t missing tonight. I wanted to leave myself an out for the afternoon, if I needed it.”

“Well, then, what’s my surprise?”

“Unh, unh, unh. If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Under Mitch’s hands, he could feel Chris thrumming with excitement and anticipation. It was obvious he couldn’t wait to share whatever it was with Mitch.

It was just as obvious, from the taut way Chris reined in his excitement, that he was fighting his own nature. He was holding back for Mitch’s sake. He’d decided Mitch needed a party for his birthday, so, come hell or high-water, Mitch was going to be at a party.

Mitch reached up and cuffed Chris on the side of the head.

“We have the campsite for the whole weekend. Look around. Nobody’s going anywhere 'til Monday. You can give me my surprise and we can find somewhere to celebrate together, alone, tonight. Then we can come back and celebrate with everyone tomorrow. Or Sunday.”

When Chris still hesitated, he realized the time for dancing around the subject had passed. It was time to lay all his cards on the table.

“The truth is, a party is the last thing I want for my 18th birthday. For the past two years, I’ve only imagined spending it with you. Just the two of us. These last few months, I’ve been wondering, and worrying, and thinking it might never happen.”

His vision blurred from and when he blinked away the dampness, he saw Chris’s eyes were wide and suspiciously wet looking, as well.

Then he was wrapped up and pressed hard against Chris’s chest, soft words murmured near his ear. “Fuck. Mitch. I’m sorry. That’s not what I was doing. Not what I meant at all.”

Just as abruptly, he was released from the tight hold, though Chris kept possession of his hand and dragged him toward the truck.

“C’mon. There’s something I want to show you.”

*

When Chris pulled the truck into an unfamiliar driveway, Mitch paused in the middle of their rendition of ’99 Bottles of Beers on the Wall’ to glance around and try to figure out where they were.

The small two story house sat back a ways from the road and fronted a large swath of sandy beach. Though there were houses on either side, neither was too close, and clever landscaping made it feel secluded. Nothing looked familiar. Not the house. Not the beach. Not the neighborhood.

Next to him, Chris fidgeted with his keys, but didn’t say a word.

A silent Chris was a very disconcerting Chris.

“Okay.” Mitch finally broke the silence. “What’s this?”

“Well, Mitch.” The teasing tone was so familiar and so welcome, muscles began to relax that he hadn’t realized he’d tensed. “This is a house. A domicile where one or more humans seek shelter—”

“Why are we here?” He knew if he didn’t interrupt now, Chris would lead him in a circle of words that would take hours to get to the point.

Another brief silence, and when the words came, they were softer than Mitch expected. “It’s my house.”

“You bought a house?”

Chris just lifted his head and gave him the ‘duh’ look.

“Okay. Why?”

“It was the right time.”

Before Mitch could get him to elaborate on the cryptic answer, Chris was out of the truck and waving for him to follow.

Inside, Chris didn’t give him the time to ask any more questions as he took him on a whirlwind tour of the house. The living room was filled with comfortable, yet masculine looking furniture. The latest in television, electronics and entertainment filled the room.

The kitchen had brand new shiny stainless steel appliances and every amenity anyone could ask for.

It looked like, after two years of barely spending any money on himself, Chris had dumped it all at once on this.

The two guest bedrooms and the downstairs bath Chris showed him next were a little less extravagant but the furniture was sturdy and the décor was relaxed and welcoming.

The fast paced tour came to an abrupt stop outside of the next door, which Chris identified as the den.

His fingers gripped the door handle with knuckles that had gone white.

“What do you think so far?” Chris asked.

“It’s amazing,” Mitch answered honestly. “It’s comfortable. Inviting. I think you’re really going to like it here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Without another word he pushed open the door and stepped back so Mitch could go in first. He noticed the huge fireplace dominating the large room first. Then the desk. Make that desks. There was two of everything. Two desks, two chairs, two computers, multitudes of bookcases.

And then he looked even closer. “Wait. That’s my computer.”

He crossed the room and realized the desk was full of his things, right down to his lucky pen. The book case next to it was filled with all the books he’d last seen in his dorm room that morning.

He turned to stare at Chris, completely baffled. “This is my stuff. Why is my stuff here?”

“I want you to live here. With me. It’s halfway between Darlington and campus. The neighborhoods nice. You said you liked the house.”

“I do, but…”

“I want to put your name on the deed, too. So there’s no question it belongs to both of us.”

“Umm…” He had no idea what to say. This was not even close to what he expected when he got out of bed this morning. Obviously his lack of eloquence wasn’t what Chris was expecting, either.

“This is what I was doing this morning. Moving you in here.”

Chris turned away a little and started to fiddle with a demented looking clown figurine on the fireplace mantle.

“Your clothes are still in your suitcases. They’re in the master suite right now, but they don’t have to stay there. You can have one of the guest rooms, if you’d rather. I know this is kind of out of the blue.”

Mitch took a deep breath, tried to find his bearings. He had a feeling the next few minutes were going to have a lasting impact on the rest of his life. If he fucked this up, he might never get another chance.

He started with the first easy question that came to mind. “When did you buy this place?”

Chris looked surprise and nearly dropped the clown. “A couple of months ago.”

“And how long before that did you start looking?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Two, three months. Long enough that my first real estate agent decided to take a break at a cozy spa and mental health clinic.”

“Of course she did. That’s what you were doing all this time? You weren’t avoiding me? You were buying a house and furnishing it as a surprise?”

“Yes.” The answer was a little too quick and, as Mitch stared at him, Chris bit his lip and dropped his eyes. And, wow, Chris being evasive was never that obvious, not even to Mitch’s well trained eye.

The tension he’d slowly been shedding throughout the day roar back into his body, twisting like a giant snake of fear in his gut. “Chris?”

“I was avoiding you.”

Mitch felt his throat close, felt the breath vanish, felt the edges of the world go a little black. Then Chris was there, in his space, hands in his hair, tilting his face and forcing him to look, to see.

“Not like that. Never like that. It was getting hard not to touch you. To keep my hands to myself. To be so close to where I wanted to be, and yet still have months to go. This,” he waved a vague hand around the room. “This kept me busy. I didn’t know you noticed. I had no idea I was hurting you or I would have found another way to distract myself.”

An unspoken question hovered between them. Actually a multitude of them, but Mitch decided to answer the most important one first. He slid one hand up into Chris’s hair and let the other one rest low on his waist. He had no doubt the pure joy thundering through him was obvious and palpable.

He leaned in, pressed his lips against Chris’s ear and whispered, “Let’s go check out that master suite.”

*

Mitch’s first, first kiss was Sherry Nugil. He’d been overwhelmed, by shock and surprise and the cold _wrong, wrong, wrong_ sensation of the whole situation.

His second first kiss was with Jordan, all hot and frantic and _next, next, next._

Waiting two years for his first kiss with Chris, he didn’t expect it to be slow and gentle. But Chris took his time, exploring Mitch’s lips, his teeth, his tongue, the hidden spaces of his mouth. He was being savored, like Chris was memorizing every shape, texture and taste.

All Mitch could do was cling to the other man’s shirt and hold on through the experience. When Chris started making little whimpering sounds that vibrated from Mitch’s lips straight to his cock he couldn’t contain the long moan of pleasure.

Chris’s hands dropped to cup Mitch’s ass, pulling their bodies flush against each other. The feel of Chris pushing against him, of knowing for sure the blond truly wanted him, it was nearly enough to push him over the edge. Mitch slid his lips across the stubbled cheek, mouthing his way along the jaw, needing to catch his breath and get back a little control. Two years of foreplay had him almost embarrassing himself just from the feel of Chris’s hands on top of his clothes.

Chris wasn’t giving him any respite though, those fascinating, maddening lips chased across his overheated skin until they found his ear and the electrifying exploration began again in earnest. He traced the shell with his tongue, nipped the lobe with sharp gentle teeth and breathed hot fluttery breath across vulnerable skin.

When the tip of Chris’s tongue dipped behind the curve of his ear, it found a hot spot that made Mitch gasped and his hips buck in automatic response.

Chris chuckled, sending more sparks along raw nerves and making him hitch again.

“Easy,” Chris whispered, sliding his hands around to pin Mitch’s hips still. Only then did he realize he’d somehow ended up with his back against the wall and Chris plastered against his front.

“Easy,” Chris murmured again, hands sliding up and pushing his shirt along with it, leaving trails of heat along his skin. “I’ve got you, Mitch.”

His shirt disappeared in a quick tug over his head and then Chris’s hot, sweet mouth was on his skin again. Trailing across his collarbone, dipping into the hollow above his breastbone, gliding over his chest until he could lick and tease and suck one nipple into stiff attention. Then he followed the path back up and over to give the same treatment to the other side.

Mitch pressed one hand hard against the wall and buried the other one in silky hair. With the slick quivering running along every nerve, all he could do was hold on and pant when Chris slid lower, treating his stomach and then the hip bones peeking out of his jeans to the same gentle, demanding exploration.

When those wicked, talented fingers found the fastenings of his jeans, Mitch felt the breath explode out of him.

“Chris. Fuck. Chris, I…”

His brain went numb beneath the onslaught of sensation thrumming through his blood and flesh. He tried to reach, to touch, to back but his hands fumbled and Chris slid out of his grasp.

“I know, Mitch, just hang on, I’ve got you. Let me, god, let me take care of you.”

A moment of clarity sliced through the haze of bliss. Chris needed this as much as he did. He’d been waiting even longer than Mitch for this night, this moment. He gave up trying to give back to Chris, for now anyway, and just relaxed into the sensation. He’d get his chance to return the attention.

Then Chris blew warm moist breath across his freed cock and all rational thought disappeared in a white burning flash of _hot, wet, want, need **.**_

It didn’t surprise him at all how talented Chris’s mouth. He started with soft teasing licks that pulled guttural moans out of Mitch. Just when he started to relax into the rhythm, the feel of Chris swallowing him whole shocked him with sudden, surprising intensity.

Hot, shuddering waves started low in his gut and spread out in electric circles until his entire body froze, paralyzed with a saturation of pleasure.

Before he realized it was happening, he was coming with an intensity he’d never experienced as Chris swallowed greedily around him.

Just as unexpectedly, words poured out of his mouth, unfiltered. “Chris, love you. God, needed you. Waited so long. Love you. C’mere. C’mere. Let me…”

Finally getting more coherent, he tugged at Chris’s shoulders, trying to pull him up so Mitch could return the favor.

Chris chuckled, his lips pressed against Mitch’s hip and the vibrations sent mini after-shocks through him.

“Chris,” he tried again to put his words in some kind of logical order. “Let me take care of you. Want to take care of you.”

“For a scientist, you’re not very good at the observation thing.”

“Huh?” He looked down at his, god, his lover. Chris was his lover. He knew the smile spreading across his lips was dopey but he didn’t care.

It took a couple of tries to focus his still lust-hazed eyes. Eventually, he realized, at some point Chris’s jeans had ended up around his knees. He was using the hand not still wrapped around Mitch’s waist to wipe himself off with a piece of cloth which looked an awful lot like Mitch’s shirt.

“Hey. I wanted… you should have waited.”

Chris dropped the shirt and stood up, pulling his jeans back into place then claimed Mitch’s mouth with a quick, deep kiss.

When he pulled back, his eyes glittered. “Trust me, there was no waiting. But we still have five more rooms to christen before we get to the master bedroom.”

He tugged Mitch away from the support of the wall, and nudged him toward door on wobbly legs. Chris walked so close behind, it felt like he was plastered to Mitch’s back.

“Mitch.”

He stepped into the hall and glanced back at the low, urgent tone of Chris’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

This time, it was Mitch who pinned Chris to the wall and devoured his mouth. The rest of the rooms could wait while they christened the hallway first.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta (you know who you are:) And Happy Holidays to everyone.


End file.
